Hers is the Fury
by Rahja
Summary: A modern woman is sent to Westeros in the body of the youngest Baratheon child, believed to have died alongside her parents when their ship sank. She has but one aim: to save the country from the Night King. But how can she unite a country so divided with long-harboured anger? She will need cunning, and patience, but also fury, for it is hers...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _This story is based on the same idea as my Tudors story "A Modern Mind"_ _s/12498862/1/A-Modern-Mind_ _, but with some different tweaks. Before reading, please check the following notes to make sure you will not end up disappointed with this story._

 _Please note that this is not a self-insert fic. I, the author, am not the narrator of this story. Even though the narrator adopts a persona in Westeros, she will keep some of her real-life personality traits, but still she is not me. She will also not have the magical power of convincing other people to do as she wants them to, or any other supernatural power. She only has knowledge about the way things will play out if no one interferes._

 _Also not that this is not a repair-fic, or whatever they're called. If you wish for a story where all the "good guys" end up happily ever after and all the "bad guys" are immediately punished, you will not be satisfied with this story. The purpose of this story is to change Westeros on a grander scale, and to prepare it for the war against the Night King. Thus, the main character will be more of a Machiavellian schemer than a "nice girl". She will try to right many wrongs, but she will also allow horrible things to happy, will lie, scheme and betray._

 _Also, this story will not moralize about violence and/or romantic relationships, such as condemning incestuous, poly-amorous or otherwise "atypic" relationships. To me, this better suits the source material. If this is not to your liking, please consider reading another piece of fan-fiction._

* * *

 **Chapter 1, in which I made a pact**

"Truly, anyone could do better. I mean, how come they are all so consumed fighting petty wars over who sits that ugly chair when an army of the undead is threatening to wipe them all out?"

Sigh. I was having that conversation. AGAIN. I was having these conversations in my dreams far too often, battling myself with words until… well, nothing happened. How am I to convince myself, anyway? But this time, it was different. This time, someone… something… answered.

"And what would you do?"

I frowned, but I was also intrigued. Finally, a reaction, an answer, something at last!

"I would focus on the things that are truly important, like trying to survive. Haven't we learned a lesson or two from watching The Walking Dead? Sacrifices must be made. Not everyone can be saved, and ultimately, there are no good guys, just less evil ones. There is no white, there is no black, only shades of grey."

"Yes, but what would you **DO**?"

Where the voice came from, I couldn't quite discern, but it mattered little to me. Heck, it was a dream, that much I had noticed by now, and dreams were weird. Why not continue as it was?

"I would make sure the realm was prepared for a battle against the undead. I would keep it from tearing itself apart in silly feuds and rivalries, and I would make sure the necessary weapons are at hand. Dragonglass, and dragons themselves, of course…"

"How?"

"Beg your pardon?"

The voice wouldn't let go. "How would you achieve all of that?"

"What, do you think I would need magic for that? All it would take is knowledge. Contrary to what Queen Cersei might believe, knowledge truly is power. Probably one of the few things I could agree on with Baelish. Anyway, with enough knowledge, say from reading the books or watching the show, even if not everything that's going on is discerned to the reader, I could do as I said. Prepare Westeros for the Battle of Dawn. Prevent some people from dying, and make sure others died at appropriate times. All for survival."

"Are you willing to prove it?"

My heart skipped a beat as I pondered the question. Was I – willing to prove it? And if so, how?

"This is your imagination, anything is possible," the voice answered.

I frowned again. "Can you read my thoughts?"

"Again, this is your imagination. I am part of it, I am part of you. And I am offering you a chance to prove your words true. Accept, and you shall become part of the narrative, you shall be cast into the Game of Thrones and must prove your worth to survive or perish. This is the offer you have been made."

"What would I need to do?"

"You need only accept."

I laughed. "And then what, will you magically transport me to Westeros and stick me in the body of a Flea Bottom dogsbody just to show me my place? Thank you very much, but no. The rules of this game are far too vague to be of any worth."

"Then choose who you wish to be."

"Only to be accused of making things too easy for myself by choosing someone influential, like Robert or Cersei or Ned? Look, I am not trying to be rude, but if this game is supposed to be any fun, if it is supposed to prove my words, we need fair conditions. Conditions we can both agree on."

There was a long pause. So long, in fact, that I feared I was waking up already, and that this delightful alternation of thoughts had ended. Then the voice cleared its imaginary throat.

"Fine. You will not be any of the major players of the game, but someone new, yet important enough to matter. Does this sound fair to you?"

"A member of one of the great houses?"

"Yes. A house of your choice, if you so wish."

For a second, I allowed all their names to run through my mind, but then I decided there was something else I wanted more badly than to choose my house.

"Your choice," I said instead. "But in return, I want my story to begin long before the chaos of the first book. Before Robert's Rebellion, even. I wish to be old enough to intervene with the events of the rebellion. Can we agree on that?"

"We can. So it shall be done. When you open your eyes, you will be cast into a new life, in a faraway imaginary land. Yet to you, it will not be imaginary, but real. Your needs will feel real, your sorrows will feel real, and your pain will feel real. When you die, you die for good, and our game is over. Say farewell to the world you know, you won't be seeing it in a long time."

Then, everything went black.

I don't know how long there was nothing but darkness, but when I opened my eyes again, it felt like forever. Suddenly, a thousand emotions and sensations came crashing down on me, and none of them were all too pleasant. I was cold, I was hungry, I was wet all over, I was alone, and gods, why did I feel so helpless? Why was everything around me so grey, so rainy, and so uncomforting? What caused these horrible, terrifyingly loud noises? I tried to move, but failed, I tried to look around, but saw nothing save the stormy sky.

Was that a clever trick, to make me die the instant I set foot on Westeros? Had I forgotten to read the fine print?

"Over here," I suddenly heard a man's voice.

Gods, is he coming to kill me, or to rescue me, I wondered. I tried to scream for help, but the only thing that left my throat was a painful wail.

"Gods be good, 'tis a babe," another voice said, and I heard steps approaching.

In the rain, I could see a face coming closer, and felt hands wrapping around me. I was lifted from the ground, and only then realized what the voice had meant. "It" was me. I wasn't sent here as a grown-up, as I had expected, but a squealing useless toddler. Well played, you sinister voice in my head, well played.

I tried my best not to scream with fury at my fate while I endured being carried around. After an agonizingly long time out in the terrible storm, the people who had found me finally brought me inside. I had no idea where I was, but I was glad to be here nonetheless. It felt warm, cosy, and altogether like home. Other people came and started fuzzing over me, wrapping me in blankets and feeding me something that tasted rather bland, but filled my painfully aching stomach. Then, suddenly, a door was thrown open.

"Where is she?" a booming male voice demanded.

"Milord, she is here, but we don't know…"

"Give her to me!"

The woman who had been feeding me complied without hesitation. Suddenly, I found myself in the arms of a man who scrutinized me as thoroughly as I did him. He was young, not even twenty, but already he was growing an impressive dark beard. His face was grey and lined with sorrow, but his blue eyes shone as clear as the sky on a sunny day. There was something soothing about his presence that seemed rather odd to me, yet I couldn't help but smile at him.

"It is her," he finally whispered. "It must be her. The eyes, the hair… all father's, but her nose and smile are mother's. It's her. Go, you knaves, and inform my brother. Inform the maester! Tell them we've found my sister."

Sister? I wanted to ask the man what was happening, but apparently, I was not able to speak yet. In fact, I felt terribly useless in this tiny human form. Gods, what if I shit myself now? Perhaps forgetting about your early years is a blessing after all.

The man turned to look at me again, and then he smiled. "Gods be good, you are safe. You are safe with me, little sister. My little Estelle."

A thunder cracked open the sky, and without wishing or wanting it, I began to cry. It felt odd to be comforted by this man, this stranger, who apparently was my brother, and who obviously knew far more about me than I about him. But somehow, I needed his help. I cried in his arms as he rocked me back and forth.

"Don't worry, little girl, the storm cannot harm you. You survived it, didn't you? The storm could not harm you, and within these walls, you are safe. This is Storm's End, little one, and you are a gift from the gods."

All of a sudden, my wailing stopped, and I looked into his eyes again. Blue as steel, hair black as coal… and then I recognised him. He was younger, so much younger, and not at all a fat drunken whoremonger, but it was unmistakably him – Robert Baratheon. And then I began to realize, and all the missing pieces of the puzzle came together.

The man, nay, boy, who now entered was surely Stannis, my other brother, and from the way they spoke I realized that this was the night their parents' ship had sunken. OUR parents, I now realized, and apparently, I was the only survivor.

"How can you be sure who she is?" I heard Stannis whisper.

"Speak clearly, or are you afraid of a little girl? She can't understand you, but look at her, just look. She's ours, our blood, just look. You know of the letter mother wrote from Essos, of the child she had conceived and now birthed just before setting sail. You knew the gods had given us a sister at last… and now they have taken father, and mother, but they have left us with her. Estelle is a Godsgift. She is a Baratheon."

I could see in Stannis' sour face that he was suspicious still, and I could not entirely fault him for it. They had probably seen their parents' ship smashed on the cliffs beneath Storm's End only hours ago, with no hope for survivors, and suddenly a baby was washed up on their shores. But Robert, it seemed, was determined to claim me as his blood, and I was grateful for it. Somehow, I felt like I actually had only escaped death narrowly, and I wanted the safety he promised. I wanted to be his little sister.

"Fine. Estelle Baratheon she is, then," Stannis agreed eventually.

"Good, then you can hold her now. I'll go out with the men to search the shore."

"You can't, it's too dangerous with the storm still raging," Stannis objected. "You are needed here, you are lord of Storm's End now."

Robert swirled around and pushed me hard into Stannis' hands. "Let me tell you something, brother," he spat. "I'll not stay inside like a fucking coward while our parents might still be out there, like Estelle was. Mother would not be far from her baby girl, would she? And if they are still there, I'm lord of nothing. So make sure to keep our sister safe and by the Gods, don't drop her."

Perhaps he was right, perhaps he was not, but his booming voice somehow frightened me, and I began to cry again. Strangely though, it caused Robert to laugh.

"See, I told you she was a Baratheon," he said to Stannis as he put on a coat to leave the castle. "Can you hear her cry? A Baratheon through and through, brother. Hers is the fury."

* * *

 _Please leave a short review and tell me how you would like the story to continue._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** _Thank you for the early reviews and encouragement. In case you were wondering, since there is little source material on "proper" Baratheon female names, I decided that Lord Steffon named his daughter in honour of his wife's family name, Estermont._

* * *

 **Chapter 2, in which I grew up**

Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be a suckling babe? Well, don't. Just don't. Yes, everyone's out there to care for all of your whims, but hey, they also have to, otherwise you'd plain die. You can't eat on your own, you can't drink on your own, and well, while you can piss and shit on your own, without help, you'd be stuck in a pile of your own excrements within the day. And the worst: you can't tell anyone about it, you can only cry.

And the teething… Gods, I was beginning to understand why Baratheons were supposedly so furious. This was a world to be furious at, and I felt it boiling inside my stomach. I was angry, angry at no one in particular, for being here in this useless limp body that no one would listen to. And once I realized the time of Robert's Rebellion wasn't that far ahead, I got even angrier. Well bravo, strange voice in my head, how am I to change anything being a bloody toddler?

But, to be fair, growing up wasn't all bad. The best about it was Robert. He was sixteen at the time I arrived, and bound to return to the Eerie to continue his fostering with Jon Arryn. Yet, he didn't.

"I can't leave her alone with you, she'll end up a sour face like you," he had told Stannis none-too-kindly.

I wasn't exactly happy to see their rivalry already beginning to build, but I was grateful for Robert's decision nonetheless. At least, I thought, my presence had taught him to accept some responsibility. Perhaps there was still hope for him, I thought, even though it was a silly, vain idea. I had not come here to fix all the wrongs that happened to Westeros or save everyone… but growing up with them, with loud and jovial Robert, stern but diligent Stannis, and the bubbly little boy only one year older than me, Renly… well, you grow attached to the people you spend your early days with, even if you know their faults all too well.

At Storm's End, I was treated like anything but a princess for my first years. As soon as I could finally – finally! – walk and speak, nothing was safe from me anymore. I roamed around the keep a swaddling toddler barely older than my first nameday, with Renly in tow. We gave Stannis a hard time finding and chastising us, only for Robert to take us to his lap afterwards and applaud us for being courageous.

I know nothing of the parents I was supposedly born to. To me, Robert and Stannis were the only parents I ever knew, and despite all their faults, they did an admirable job for quite some time. The even acted like proper parents for most of the time, even though neither of them realized or would have ever admitted. They accepted the roles they had been given: Stannis, the one who set up rules and taught me how to be proper, and Robert the funny one who would always allow himself to be wrapped around my finger.

Those were happy days, and since I knew they could never last, I enjoyed them to the utmost. For on the horizon, war was brewing.

Then came my third nameday, and the year 281 AC, and with it the infamous tourney at Harrenhal.

Oh, how I had begged Robert to take me with him, to introduce me to all the lords and ladies and the king and queen! Stannis, of course, had refused on principle, saying that "dangerous cesspit" (he didn't know I understood these words) was no place for a little girl. It wasn't until I myself spoke to him that he relented.

"I need to go," I told him in my high-pitched little voice. Honestly, I hated that voice, but everyone else seemed to find it adorable, so from time to time, I would speak even more sweetly to get what I wanted. "I will be there. I saw it in a dream."

Stannis sank to his knees, and patted my head. "Dreams are like mist. You must not listen to them."

"Mine are not. They come true," I insisted in the most innocent fashion I could and prayed he would catch on. I couldn't just tell him I actually KNEW many things that were going to happen because none of this was real to me, and just the story in a book. And in fact, that statement would have felt like a lie to me by now. As the voice had said, this WAS my reality now. Everything felt absolutely real, like the twitch in my guts when Stannis raised his eyebrows at my words. "Many of my dreams come true, like the one on my first night."

"What do you mean?"

Always straight to the point, my brother, I thought smiling. Others considered him too stern for his own good, but I had come to appreciate his no-nonsense-attitude.

"I saw a ship around me, and dark clouds. And the storm was so loud… I was afraid for mama, and I tried to tell her, but no words would come out," I said in a casual children's banter tone. "And then later, it happened just like that, and I saw the fear in mama's eyes. She put me in a basket, and she said something to papa, and then there was a loud noise and…"

Suddenly, Stannis' expression changed, and he put a hand over my mouth. Then he picked me up and carried me into my room, and ordered the servants to let no one in and no one out. For a while, I was afraid I had overreached myself, given myself away as someone who was not truly from Westeros… but after three long hours, my door was finally opened again.

In came Stannis, followed by Robert, who looked sterner than he ever had before. I sat upright on my bed, and looked them straight in the face.

"Now Ellie," Robert began as he knelt down before me. "This is very important. You must tell us the truth, do you understand, and only the truth."

"Of course, Robbie, I would never lie to you," I said in my sweet innocent child's voice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, dear. See, you've got her all frightened," he barked at Stannis, who simply ignored him and sat next to me on the bed.

"Tell us about that dream again. About the ship and mother," he insisted.

I made big puppy eyes at them. "But… but I already told you. I saw it in a dream, and then it happened. It was all so dark and wet and loud, and everyone was frightened… mama was frightened too, but papa only worried for her, and for me. There was a little boat, they wanted us to get in, but then there was this noise… and somehow, mama put me in a basket, and she was still so frightened. Then she and papa spoke, and I flew away from them… and then there was darkness."

Stannis still tried to maintain a calm façade, but I could see tears welling up in Robert's eyes.

"What… what did they say, Ellie? Do you remember what mama and papa said?"

"I… I couldn't understand most of it, I only remember it from my dream. I keep dreaming it sometimes, and I like it because I can see mama's face," I announced innocently. "Papa said there was 'no chance', and then he kissed mama, you know, like only mamas and papas do," I continued, and looked at Stannis for approval, since he had told me about relationship propriety only a while ago. "And then they said something about saving me, and trusting the sea god and wind goddess, whose blood we share. Oh, and they also said something about you."

Robert gulped, and for a split-second I felt a pang of conscience to deceive them both thus. But then, I reminded myself that what I was saying might not be the truth, but probably not too far from it, and it would make them both happier, eventually. It was a necessary lie, and one that would create more good than evil.

"They said you would be good, and take care of me."

Now, even Stannis' face didn't remain untouched anymore, and I suddenly felt him putting his arm around my shoulder. Robert gathered his strength to suppress the tears welling up in his eyes, and instead leant forward to put his forehead to mine.

"Oh Ellie," he whispered, and laughed a hollow, sad laughter.

We stayed like this for a long time, and it was then I forgot about the qualms I had had about lying.

"I also have other funny dreams, like the one I had before Renly fell down the stairs. I saw it in my dreams, and a week later, it happened just like that," I continued mumbling like an oblivious child.

"Of course, of course," Robert said smiling, and then he stood up and took Stannis aside. They spoke for a moment and muffled their voices, but there was one thing I could understand clearly. "Daenys."

I fought hard to hide my triumphant smile. That was it! They believed me now, they had come to the conclusion I had wanted them to reach! They now thought I was having green dreams, or dragon dreams, or whatever they wished to name it. Most likely, they were attributing it to the Targaryen blood our grandmother had gifted us, leading all the way back to the famous Targaryen Daenys the Dreamer, whose dreams had foretold the Doom of Valyria and saved the Targaryen family.

Finally, my brothers returned to me.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked in a sweet voice.

"No, silly Ellie," Robert laughed and picked me up. "But we want to hear more about your dreams. Like, you told your brother Stannis you had a dream about the tournament at Harrenhal?"

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! We were there, you and I! Oh, and there was this weird man with white hair sitting in an enormous chair, and he had a strange thing on his head, like a headband made from metal. And he had a wife, I think, who stood next to him, and she was sooo beautiful! And their son is a prince, did you know that? And the funny man spoke to me, and everyone was so silent, and then he nodded."

"Daenys," Stannis suddenly whispered. Robert shot him a dark glance.

"Well, sweet girl, it is settled then. The gods want you to come with me and we shall not oppose their will. It was high time you were introduced to the King and court, anyway. Let them see what a real lady looks like, not their simpering King's Landing whores."

"Robert!" Stannis shot at him.

I grinned into myself, and innocently repeated: "What is a whore, Stannis?"

"See?" He said angrily, and took me out of Robert's arms. "If only mother knew what you're turning her into! You had better make sure not to teach her any other words unfit for a lady while you're at that tourney."

"Pah, she is a Baratheon," Robert objected and shrugged. "We need to curse from time to time, or else we end up sour and stiff."

The little accusation between them did not go unnoticed by me, although neither of them would ever know just how much I already understood.

"Now, make sure she has suitable gowns to be presented to that mad old fucker. And to my betrothed! Gods, she'll love our little one, I'm sure of it," Robert began to muse as we left the room.

Stannis trailed behind him, me on his arm, slowly whispering things that he needed to get done as preparation for my trip with Robert. I clung to him more closely, and smiled, and weirdly enough, Stannis' mouth twitched a little as he began to smile back.

"Can I ask you something and you won't be mad at me?"

He nodded, and his smile grew. "I will never be mad at you, sister."

Gods, how I loved him that instant, and how much I regretted doing what I was about to do now. But the temptation was just too big, the situation too perfect, for me not to have a little fun with my brothers.

"What is a fucker?"

He clenched his jaw instantly, and sped up his pace, and pushed me back into Robert's arms without a word to him.

"He'll answer your questions, since he's so good at teaching you new words," he told me then. "If you'll excuse me, I have dresses to order and victuals to be packed. Here, brother, enjoy the mess you've made yourself. And if she doesn't turn out to be the proper lady mother would have wished for, do not pin the blame on me!"

Robert and I both watched dumbstruck as Stannis strode away.

I sniffed. "Is he mad at me?"

"Stannis is mad at everyone and everything, don't worry. It's not your fault. But… what did you say to him?" my brother then wondered.

"Nothing bad. I only asked him what a fucker was."

Robert then looked back at me, and his smile grew so wide I thought it would burst his face. He broke into laughter so loud and honest I could not help but laugh with him. "That's my girl," he managed to squeeze out between tears of laughter. Then, as he was calming down and so was I, he put his forehead to mine again. "My little Baratheon girl."

* * *

 _Feel free to review and add ideas for what could happen at the Tourney of Harrenhal. I have certain things planned that are vital to the plot, but the possibilities are endless... so feel free to add your own ideas to my mix!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3, in which I went to the Tourney at Harrenhal**

It was an ocean of colours. The tents were so manifold, and I so small, that approaching the fields before Harrenhal seemed like diving into a deeply colourful sea of endless banners. Just coming closer made me eerily uncomfortable. True, I had the mind of a grown-up trapped in a toddler's body, but a toddler's body it still was. Not all of my reactions I was able to control, and this fright was one of them. It would not be until much later that I would understand why this situation felt so alien to me, so I shall not speak more of it now.

Instead, I wish to tell you of mine and Robert's arrival at our sumptuous tents, and how we met the first of many important people yet to come.

"Gods, I can't wait to wet my lance with a little blood," Robert exhaled as he finally sank into a chair prepared for him. "They say Lannister's son is a prodigy, have you heard, Romar? Hah, I sure would fancy knocking off that golden-haired prick!"

Ser Romar stood beside him and nodded. "It would be a match worthy to behold," he replied diplomatically before turning to me. "Though the little lady should not watch it."

I smiled at the knight. He was here for my personal protection, as both Stannis and the Maester had insisted upon. Clad in fine gold and black cloth, he stood easily as tall as Robert, and equally as bulky, so I felt terribly well protected in the man's presence.

Robert made a strange noise and downed his cup. "Why not? Should she not see her brother triumph?"

"The little one shouldn't see her brother fall," Ser Romar said a little more quietly.

"Fall? Mother's tits, I didn't take you for a stuck-up puny idiot like my brother, Ser Romar! Can you truly imagine a world in which a blonde-haired shit could best me?"

"Language," Ser Romar simply replied, looking at me.

Suddenly, Robert rose from his chair, apparently bored by the way the conversation was heading. He put down his cup, laughed, and then picked me up.

"Let's see where the Starks have put up their tent. Do you remember the Starks, Ellie?"

I nodded. "They're from the North, and they're wolves. Three boys and a she-wolf."

"Aye," Robert agreed proudly as we left the tent. "And do you remember their names?"

"Ned's your friend, isn't he?"

"He is! And his sister, my betrothed?"

"Lyna," I mumbled.

Robert laughed again. "Ly-a-nna," he corrected me kindly. "Please say it correctly when we arrive, will you, Ellie? We wouldn't want the she-wolf of Winterfell to be disappointed by you."

I nodded sweetly and clung closer to him as we approached the grey tents of the Starks. The sensations around me threatened to be overwhelming, all these people and horses and dogs and all those sounds of clacking swords, shields being repaired, and servants shouting at each other… but then, Robert's voice broke through them all.

"Ned!"

He put me on the ground and opened his arms to welcome a young man whose long stern face left no doubt about who he was.

"Good to see you," the Stark boy said. "You look well."

"Well, you've got fat," Robert replied as if this was some sort of insider joke. Both of them laughed heartily. Then, they turned to me. "Now tell me, Ned, isn't this the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? Come, Ellie, show the Lord Stark your courtesies."

I stumbled forward and attempted to curtsey as cutely as possible. "Lord Stark," I said. Then, when I looked up, Ned Stark was looking down upon me with a grave expression. He bowed a little before me.

"The honour is all mine, Lady Baratheon," he said earnestly. "You truly are as lovely as your brother claimed."

I was certain he only meant to flatter me, but somehow, it was nice to hear him being so courteous. I could really see myself grow up to a court of flatteries around me for a second. Then, I remembered why I was here, and turned to Robert again.

"Robbie…" I began, but he cut me short.

"Gods be damned, how long has it been, Ned? A year? And where's your sister, eh? I should pay her my respects, don't you think? Also, she will surely well like to meet my little Ellie."

Ned's face twisted in a strange way, but he replied nonetheless. "Of course she would. She's with the horses, Robert."

"Good, good! I'll see you later then, for supper?" Robert was positively beaming now. He patted his friend's shoulder for a moment, then turned around. "Come, Ellie. Let's go to the horses!"

And with that, he all but rushed away, leaving me behind for the first time in forever. For a second, I was stupefied and just watched as he left a helpless three-year-old behind. Then, however, Ned Stark addressed me.

"Do you want me to show you the way, Lady Baratheon?"

I will never forget this moment, short and seemingly insignificant though it was. And although I will always love Robert and Stannis and how they brought me up, this moment will always be different to me. Meaningful. It was then that I was first treated not as a helpless child, but as a sensible person in my own right. Yes, Stark had offered to help me because he felt pity for me (most likely), but he hadn't patronised me. He had straightforwardly asked what I needed, and left the decision up to me. I looked at him with great eyes, feeling like the grown-up I truly was for the first time in three years.

It was a terrific feeling.

"No, thank you, Lord Stark," I managed to say. "I am a big girl now."

Then, to make sure he didn't suspected anything, I giggled sweetly and ran behind Robert. I found him in an enclosed area obviously meant to be the makeshift stables of the Stark camp, already speaking to Lyanna Stark.

For a moment, I hesitated. Whatever they spoke about, I could not hear, but it was clear from their body language just what was going on. Robert, my dear brother, was truly and utterly besotted with her. Yes, he liked his flings with insignificant women once in a while, but I had reached the conclusion that he truly loved Lyanna. On our way to Harrenhal, he had been going on about her virtues and strengths without end. I knew he was capable of real love, for he loved me, and I believe he loved Lyanna with almost equal fierceness.

She, on the other hand, was so painfully obviously not in love with him that it hurt to watch. How could he not see how she recoiled from his every attempt to close the distance between them? How could he not see the uneasiness in her face? How could he not hear it in the way she spoke?

I sighed. Part of me wanted to help them, both of them, to solve this terribly awkward situation that fate had thrust them into. He was my beloved brother after all, and from what I had gathered, she was a decent person as well. Neither of them deserved this disaster. Neither of them deserved the tragedies yet to come. But unfortunately, this wasn't about what people deserved. This wasn't even about what they needed.

It was about what Westeros needed.

"Robbie!" I shouted and ran towards him. "You left me behind!"

Both of them turned around to look at me. Lyanna seemed surprised more than anything, while Robert, actually, seemed to feel a little guilty. He picked me up as I jumped into his arms to be at eyelevel with the grown-ups.

"Ah, well, allow me to introduce my lovely sister, the pearl of my world," he found his wits again as he showed me to Lyanna. "Ellie, this is Lady Lyanna Stark, my betrothed. Say hello."

I shirked away from her for a moment, not knowing how to proceed best.

"Hello, Lady Estelle," Lyanna gracefully solved the tension for me.

"Hello," I then returned, and was forced to smile. "Robbie told me you were a great rider – is that true? Can you show me?"

Robert blushed. Really, he could blush? I would have never guessed it. But Lyanna smiled, and nodded.

"When the time allows it, of course. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two. I also grew up with three brothers, you see?"

"Oh, I know, Robbie told me all about them. There's Ned, and the older one, Brandon, and a young one named Ben… or something. Robbie told me! Oh, but he likes you the best. He says you will be his lady wife someday, and come to live with us in Storm's End. Will you be my sister then?"

It was perfectly sweet and innocent, but I could see Lyanna flinch a little. I didn't think she disliked me, but rather the idea of being the lady of Storm's End because she knew what it entailed. She faked a smile well enough for Robert to buy it.

"It seems so, doesn't it?" she simply replied, and then turned around. "Speaking of brothers, I must go and find my brother Benjen. He might be in trouble."

"The lad can look after himself, he doesn't need a wet-nurse anymore," Robert objected. "Stay a little longer, please."

Lyanna flinched again. "I'm afraid I can't. We'll meet again soon, I promise, but I have to go find Benjen now. Now, alright?"

And with that, she was gone, leaving us to watch her all but run away. Robert grumbled a little, and put me down again. Then, he sighed, and looked at me. "Let's go, Ellie. We can take a little tour around the camp, see who's here. Would you like that?"

I liked it, and I also liked to impress my brother with my knowledge of the banners and crests of the great houses already camped around Harrenhal. He assumed the Maester, or perhaps Stannis, had already taught me this, when in truth, most of my knowledge came from what I remembered from the time before. It didn't matter much, though. It wasn't the first time I tricked Robert, it wouldn't be the last, and like most of these times, it wasn't really harmful.

As the day passed by, a message arrived cancelling all the plans Robert had had for a private family supper with the Starks. Instead, we had been invited into the castle of Harrenhal itself, to dine with the royal family. Robert seemed nervous when he received the summons, and spat out some swearwords, but he complied nonetheless.

"You cannot anger the king," he ruefully repeated the words that apparently, our father had told him before embarking on the ship to Essos. But his next words were Robert all over again: "How can you not anger that mad old fucker?"

This sentence kept replaying in my head as we ventured into Harrenhal together, me walking by Robert's hand, with my heart pounding. I had to make this situation count, I knew it, or else my chances of actual change might be diminished. For a moment, I felt so anxious that I was afraid of emptying my stomach right here, on the floor of the dining hall. Instead, I pulled myself together with all of my might and curtseyed as I was pushed in front of a chair.

"So this is her, huh?"

The voice was strange, and dark, but I had no doubt who it belonged to. No formal address, no courtesies… no one was allowed to behave like that, except for one.

"Your Grace," I said as loudly as my little voice could muster and remained in my curtsey.

"Look at me, child," he ordered, and I couldn't help but obey.

There he was, Aerys the Mad King, sitting right in front of me. He did seem a little weird, but not as crazy as I had expected him to be. Perhaps he was in a jolly mood today. Please, let it be so, I silently prayed.

The King raised an eyebrow. "She does look like Steffon, I grant you that. Shall we eat then?"

It was an awkward situation – these people sitting at a table together, unaware of the fact that very soon, most of them would be dead, or even worse, out to kill each other. There was, of course, King Aerys, with Queen Rhaella on his left and Prince Rhaegar to his right. Also, Lord Whent, who graciously hosted the tourney, was here with his wife. And behind us all, there were three knights of the Kingsguard, stern and solemn.

It was an uneasy night for me, I can tell you that.

After a while of listening to the grown-ups speak as if I wasn't there, fortunately seats were switched and the Queen sat next to me. She smiled at me in a gentle, motherly way.

"I knew your mother, Lady Baratheon. She would love to see you like this, all proper and well-behaved. I am sure she would be proud," she kindly assured me.

"I know she would. She loved me very much, she said so. I see it in my dreams."

Rhaella offered me some bread and broadened her smile. "Of course, sweetling. You're such a lovely young lady, just like my granddaughter, the Princess Rhaenys. Perhaps you want to come to the capital one day, and play with her?"

I nodded eagerly. "I want that. And I'll also play with your daughter, then."

The Queen's smile fell. "Alas, I'm afraid you cannot do that, little Lady. You see, the gods have not seen fit to grant me a daughter," she said sighing, with a painful side-glance towards her brother-husband.

"I know," I replied as innocently as possible. "But you will have one soon. I saw it in my dreams."

She gulped, and frowned, and obviously didn't know what to say for a very long time. I pretended not to notice and tried to carry on as if I was oblivious to her inner turmoil.

"When you say you saw it…"

"In my dreams, yes. I sometimes dream of things before they happen. Like that one time, when my brother Renly fell down the stairs, I had seen it in my dreams a week before. I warned him not to run, but he didn't listen! He's so silly sometimes… and then this, here, I saw it too. I told my brothers I was going here because I had seen it."

Her beautiful lilac eyes widened. "You saw all that?"

I nodded eagerly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "Yes, and I saw you had a daughter. In a place surrounded by lots of water, and dragons made from stone, and there was a terrible storm outside. Like the storm that took mama and papa. But it spared me, and it will spare your daughter. I hope we can be friends then, she and I."

Rhaella all but froze, and didn't speak to me for many minutes. So I diverted my attention back to my food, and hoped I hadn't overstepped any boundaries. Before we reached desserts, however, I suddenly heard the King's voice interrupting all ongoing conversations.

"Baratheon," he bellowed.

Everyone looked at him instantly.

"Is it true?"

My brother cleared his throat, but didn't say anything.

"Your king asked you a question, Baratheon. Is it true that your sister possesses the gift?"

Robert looked at me, trying to keep his face calm, but I could see the storm raging beneath his reserved demeanour. It wouldn't be long before he said something stupid, so I decided to cut in.

"My brothers tell me I'm a godsgift," I sweetly told the king. "Because I survived the storm, and because I can see things in my dreams."

Eerie silence. I began to fear once more that I had gone too far, but suddenly, the king laughed. It wasn't a happy, joyful laughter, rather hollow and somehow unnerving, and nobody chimed in.

"If this is true, then at least one good thing came from Princess Rhaelle's marriage to your grandfather. Such a shame to see good Targaryen blood wasted on stags," the King mused, and took a sip from his cup. Then, he looked at me, his purple eyes piercing me like daggers. "Your father was a good man, girl. One of the few decent ones left. There are so many traitors around me, did you know that? Not a single good man left to trust. Only traitors."

"Father please, you cannot say that. There are many who have served you ably and loyally," Prince Rhaegar now interjected.

"Be silent, you fool," the King hissed, and looked at me again. "Did you see me in your dreams, child? Did you see your king?"

I nodded.

He laughed.

"Good, the blood of Old Valyria is strong in this one, even though she does not look the part. Tell me, child, what did your dragon blood show you about your king?"

"I can't. It's a secret."

He laughed again, and waved his hand at me. "Come here then, and tell only me."

Everyone watched as a knight of the Kingsguard helped me off my chair, and as I strode towards the king, and as I was put on another chair next to him. I had to stand on it rather than sit to whisper into Aerys's ear.

A painful chill ran down my spine. Whatever I said next could change the course of history, and it could pretty well also get me killed.

"I know," I then began to whisper. "I know there are men who are not true to you. Bad men who want to harm you."

He narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, trying to appear stoic.

"They will do something soon. I'm afraid. There's a knight with no face, riding under a laughing tree. He's dangerous, I don't like him."

"What else?" The King sounded like he was getting drunk on my voice.

"And I saw the Queen, on an island of stony dragons, and she had a baby there. A little princess. And I saw you, on a big chair made from swords, surrounded by fire. The wolves came and tried to harm you, but you fought them with fire."

Aerys smiled as he listened. He smiled so darkly it almost made me vomit. But I had to do this so as not to disturb the chain of events yet to come. The more I changed, the less I knew about what would happen, and unfortunately, I needed Aerys to go completely mad. I needed him to commit all the atrocities he was about to commit. I didn't like it one bit, but when I left him to return to my own chair, I could see the glimpse of madness in his eyes.

"A dragon dreamer indeed," he then announced. "Consider yourself blessed, Baratheon."

"I do, Your Grace," Robert finally found his voice again. "Estelle is the pearl of my world."

"And such a lovely little lady she is," Rhaella agreed, still seemingly distraught (or thrilled?) by the prospect of having a daughter at last. "She could be a companion to your daughter, Rhaegar. Wouldn't you like that?"

The sober young prince nodded hesitantly. "When she is a little older, she is more than welcome in King's Landing."

I yawned loudly, causing Lord Whent to laugh.

"Look, the little one's tired," he said.

I tried to appear worried. "I am sorry, did I do something wrong?"

"No love," Rhaella assured me. "It is getting late for a young lady like yourself, though. You should go to rest, don't you agree, Lord Baratheon?"

"Of course. I'll send a servant to fetch Ser Romar."

The King anxiously asked: "Who is Ser Romar?"

"A sworn knight of house Baratheon, Your Grace," Robert explained with all the patience he could muster.

"Pah. The girl's worth more than some upstart hedgeknight with antlers. She should have a proper knight to make sure she arrives safely. Ser Arthur, accompany the girl."

Robert certainly didn't like the insult, but I giggled inwardly. What a splendid opportunity, I thought! So I took my leave of the lords and ladies gathered, and followed the knight clad in white outside the castle.

A huge wave of relief washed over me, and I felt free once more. Like a sweet little child, I ran next to the Kingsguard knight, and looked up.

"You're the Sword of the Morning," I stated in a wise guy fashion.

Ser Arthur met my glance and nodded approvingly. "And you're the Godsgift."

"My brother Stannis said you're one of the best knights in all the seven kingdoms," I went on. "And you hold a very powerful sword. And you have a very beautiful sister."

Now, I could hear a strange sound coming from him that almost sounded like a chuckle.

"Stannis Baratheon said my sister was beautiful?"

"No, he didn't. I said it. She is very beautiful. I saw her in my dream. I saw her dancing at the tourney. She's also here, isn't she, but she wouldn't like Stannis anyway. She likes the eldest Stark boy."

Suddenly, Ser Arthur stopped, and turned to look directly at me.

"Who told you?"

"No one," I replied innocently. "I saw it in my dreams. Dragon dreams, the King calls them. I also saw you, you know."

He knelt down before me, his face exhibiting a very serious expression. "What did you see?"

For a moment, I was surprised by the fact that apparently, he took me seriously, but then I remembered the Daynes were an old family, also boasting some kind of Valyrian descent, and I simply guessed he knew about Daenys the Dreamer and other such stories. And when the King took my words to be true, how could a Kingsguard knight not?

"Oh, it was not a nice dream," I said in a sorrowful voice. "You were in a very hot place, with no trees or flowers or water. And there were wolves coming to you, and you held that powerful sword, and you fought the wolves. And then they… they killed you." I sniffed. "And it was all for nothing."

He still looked dead serious. "What do you mean?"

"It was all for nothing! You were protecting a little dragon pup, and you thought the wolves had come to harm it, but they hadn't. They would have never harmed it! They were not your enemies, but you still fought, and you died, and then darkness came over the world."

Ser Arthur raised an eyebrow. "A 'dragon pup', you say?"

I nodded, and tried to squeeze out a little tear. "Please don't die, Ser Arthur. When the wolves come, don't fight them, please. Just speak to them, they can hear you, they will understand you. It's not the wolves you should fear."

He offered me a handkerchief and waited until I had regained my composure. Then, he sternly nodded.

"I won't fight any wolves, if it means so much to you," he kindly said.

"Thank you," I whispered, smiled, and then dared to hug him. "Can you carry me? I am tired."

He did, he picked me up and carried me all the way back to my tent, and on our way I clung so tightly to him that he must have felt it even through his heavy armour. It was the least I could do to coerce him into forming an emotional attachment to me, hoping, nay, praying that he would remember me and my words when the time came.

There were some deaths that had to happen, but his wasn't one of it.

I could only hope.

* * *

 _Feel free to review. Next time, you'll see some more conversations at Harrenhal and an acceleration of events. Stay tuned!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – In which a doe began to spin a web**

"Can you believe it? The nerve of that man, king, mad fucker, whatever," my brother Robert bellowed. "And did you see the young lion's face? Hah, the fool sure did not see it coming."

Ser Romar cleared his throat before nodding. "Ser Jaime apparently expected to participate in the Tourney, not to be sent back to the capital with the Queen. Still, there is great honour in joining the Kingsguard."

"Piss on the Kingsguard."

They didn't know I was standing right behind the curtain, listening to every word I said. Although, quite frankly, I don't believe my dear brother would have changed his words even if he knew.

"What good is there in standing by idly as that madman burns the country? And I tell you what, Ser Romar, I'm certainly not the only one thinking this way. Rumour has it the old lion has abdicated as Hand of the King and retreated to the Rock. Gods, say what you will about that grim old fucker, but at least Tywin kept the realm going. Now…"

"True. It would appear the King was quite wary of his Hand," Ser Romar agreed. "And now…"

"Now he's taken Tywin's heir and turned him into a golden doorstopper. And he's deprived me of the chance to knock that smug blonde lordling into the ground, godsdammit. Where's all the good competition now, eh?" Robert downed another cup of wine in frustration.

Ser Romar most likely disapproved of his heavy drinking, as he was more my brother Stannis' man than Robert's, but he didn't comment on it.

"There are many capable knights in the lists still, my Lord. What is one green boy compared to the finest knights of Westeros?"

Robert made a humming sound, then slammed his cup onto the table. "Damn right, you're damn right, Ser Romar! Oh, the Starks are still left, after all, and some others, too. The King will send his Silver Prince, did you hear? Could knock the superior grin out of that one's face as well. And some of the Valemen are here, too. It's been so long that I crossed blades with Ser Yohn of Runestone. Gods, these were the days, with Ned and me still in the Eerie."

"Do you plan on returning there, my Lord?"

"I might as well," Robert admitted, now sounding a little more sober. "I should have gone after my parents did not return, but I could not bring myself to leave my little pearl. My mother entrusted her to me. Do you know how much she and my father longed for a daughter?"

Ser Romar sighed in pity. "I do not, my Lord, but I can imagine how proud they would be to know of the sacrifices you made on the little lady's behalf."

"Aye. But my fostering was important to them as well. My father always said so. Guess I shall speak to Jon about it while we're here. The old man always knows best. I tell you, Ser Romar, that's a man the mad king should make his hand. Wiser than Tywin bloody Lannister, and a lot less greedy."

A few strange noises followed, which I couldn't quite decipher, before I heard steps approaching.

"Let's see if my little pearl is up already. Estelle? Come, girl, wake up, the tournament's beginning today!"

As quickly as possible I stumbled back to my bed and jumped on it. Not a second too early, for soon after, Robert burst through the heavy cloth that was our make-shift wall.

"Robbie!"

"Now there, Ellie, time to get up! You want to see all the knights of the realm, don't you? Where's her bloody handmaiden, Ser Romar? Go and fetch her, my sister will need to look her best."

I giggled. "Will you wear my favour?"

Now, Robert raised an eyebrow. "Who told you about favours?"

"Stannis did. He explained how a tourney works. And he says a great knight must always wear the colours of his favourite lady, and when he wins, he can crown her the Queen of Love and Beauty," I said in a sweet wise-guy-manner. "Will you crown me, Robbie?"

"I would love to," Robert replied smiling. "But I have to wear my Lady Lyanna's favour, see? She will be my wife, and it would be very rude to wear someone else's colours or crown someone else. Do you understand?"

My eyes grew wide. "Not even your sister? What if I ask her?"

Robert laughed heartily. "Gods, Ellie… well, if you ask her so sweetly, I'm sure she won't mind. But you must understand it will only be this once. You might be my little pearl, but Lyanna will be my wife. And with any luck, she'll give me lots of bonny children, including pearls like you."

"Alright, then I will not ask her," I concluded. "You must wear her favour. Ser Romar can fight for me, can he not?"

"I'll fight every man that dares to approach you in an unsuitable way, my lady," the elder knight, who had just entered my 'room', acknowledged.

Robert nodded. "There, now that that's settled, go and find the handmaiden."

"I've already sent for her to come," Ser Romar informed his lord.

"Good. I had better find my squire, then, and prepare. I need to crown my Lady Lyanna!" Robert laughed, then looked at me. "Bring her to the lists when she is presentable. And make sure not to leave her side unless I am with her. I didn't like the way that mad old dragon leered at her, and I don't want him anywhere near my little pearl. Understood?"

Ser Romar kept his word. I pretended not to notice that he had not promised to joust for me or partake in the melee, and he in turn did as Robert had told him: he accompanied a little girl dressed in golden robes to watch the gruesome sport that is jousting.

To this very day, I have not fully grasped the concept of tournaments. I understand the display of wealth, the possibility to form new alliances, the chances for plotting and scheming, and I also understand the thrill of watching lances break. In a world that is so bereft of entertainment, with no internet or even decent novels, people will cheer for almost anything that makes their minds wander away from their everyday life.

What I don't understand, though, is the willingness of knights to wager their lives solely for entertainment and the vague concept of "glory". What I don't understand is the willingness of the audience to see people die.

I saw someone die at Harrenhal, a young knight whose name now escapes me, but I still remember the profound impression it made on my mind. Of course I wasn't the delicate little girl I appeared to be, but a woman grown – yet, a modern woman. I had only ever seen one dead person in real life, my grandfather, and he had died peacefully in a hospital.

Seeing a lance impaling a rider in full speed is decisively different.

In truth, my first reaction was a sudden urge to vomit, and I was glad my breakfast had been rather light. So instead of making a mess of myself, I swallowed the acid boiling inside of me and jumped off my seat. Ser Romar followed me immediately, asking for my wellbeing without forcing me anywhere. He was the very epitome of a loyal, unobtrusive knight, even though I was a girl of no more than three years to him. So I just stumbled, as quickly as my little legs would allow me, away from the awful shouting and painful yells coming from the lists.

It was an odd chance that on my way between the tents, I would stumble upon a group of soldiers clad in Targaryen colours. I do not believe in fate or any kind of destiny, but I must admit, for a second I thought this was actually part of some larger plan – there, right before me, was Prince Rhaegar, trying to sneak out the campground.

"Lady Baratheon," he turned to me, visibly unhappy at having been noticed. His gaze wandered towards Ser Romar, and I feared he would kill both the knight and me to quieten us. "What are you doing here?"

I began to tremble when I saw his soldiers were all fully armoured, with their hands ready at their hilts. Now, I was left with only two options, I thought: recoil from him and hope he considered me insignificant, or attack full-on.

What can I say, my blood was Baratheon blood…

"I know what you are doing here," I said. "You're looking for the Knight of the Laughing Tree."

Rhaegar's eyes widened, and I knew I had made the right choice. The King would have been wary of the mystery knight even without my words, and I faintly remembered he had sent his own son to find the "traitor". Only the day before, I had heard rumours about how Jaime Lannister, newly appointed to the Kingsguard, had returned in disguise to show off his prowess. Everyone was talking about the mystery knight, so it made sense to assume now was the time Rhaegar went looking for the elusive shadow.

"Little Lady," Rhaegar said with a sad smile, and knelt before me. "You must be more careful of what you speak."

"And you must hurry, my prince," I gave back nonchalantly. "You must find her before anyone else does. You must."

Rhaegar blinked twice, and then frowned. "Her?" His voice was barely audible now, and I doubt even Ser Romar understood him, much less his own soldiers.

I nodded as gravely as I could, and then added: "The dragon will have three heads. I saw it."

Clearly shaken, the prince stared at me for a small eternity. Then he rose and brought on a jovial smile. "May the Gods protect you, little Lady. Ser, see to it that she is kept safe, and send my regards to her brother."

Ser Romar nodded and bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace."

Then, without any further words, Rhaegar turned around and commanded his men to follow him. I watched him go, my little heart pounding heavily in my chest. Had I done the right thing? I hated all the senseless bloodshed that was to come, but I was sure much of it was needed. I could only hope my assumptions were correct, and that Lyanna truly was the mystery knight, and that they would fall for each other over this matter. The price was high, yes, but I needed it to happen. I needed Jon.

"Such a formidable bearing for a lady so young, to stand upright when speaking to royalty," a strange voice suddenly said.

Ser Romar whirled around to push himself between me and the perpetrator, but then surprisingly stepped aside. For a moment, I was confused, but then I realized why my guardian didn't consider the person a threat.

It was Varys, the Spider. Eunuchs do not kill with blades, my brother Stannis always said. They kill with their words.

"You are the Spider," I said emphatically, trying to impress him.

His facial features betrayed no emotion. "And you are the Little Doe, and that was the Young Dragon. A world filled with animals, it seems."

"I'm glad to meet you." With my sweet little awkwardness, I curtseyed, but apparently, my charm was lost on him. "I think we should be friends, you and I."

"A graceful offer, my lady. It is hard to find true friends these days. However, a word of advice: a nobly born lady should handpick her friends, and do so very carefully."

I frowned. "I am careful."

"My little birds have told me of a certain Little Doe that dared to approach the Old Dragon, and sing her sweet song to him. It would appear to some that this was unwise. Still, it is for Lord Robert to decide upon your education, my Lady, with your parents so sadly taken from us."

"It wasn't a song. I told the King a secret!"

Varys smiled a little. "My lady, there are no secrets in this world. Not before men, not before the Gods."

"My brothers say I am a godsgift," I insisted, playing the insolent brat. "Because I dream things that have happened, and things that will happen."

"Or so it would seem," Varys agreed dutifully.

"Fine," I puffed myself up, trying to appear miffed. "You don't have to believe me, and you don't have to be my friend! But can I still ask you a question, since you know so much?"

He nodded graciously.

"What did the voice say?"

He kept up his sweetish smile.

"A voice, my lady? Which voice?"

"The voice in the flames, when the fire turned blue. When that bad man cut off your parts and threw them into the fire, it went blue, and there was a voice. I keep seeing it in my dreams, as you did, but I can never understand what it says," I said as innocently as possible.

Varys didn't move. His smile evaporated.

"If I were you, I would hate magic too. But my dreams aren't magic, and they're not bad. They could help you, you know."

He gulped, and tried to gain composure. "And just how do you think to aid me?"

"There are birds everywhere. We have many birds in Storm's End, when the wind is not too hard on them. Some of these birds can fly to the capital, I think. When I have another dream that you could like, I'll try and tell them about it."

It was a tough gamble, I knew it. Most people were too obsessed with themselves to notice how mature I sounded, how much I actually understood, but not Varys. He was a clever one, and the shock I had dealt him by knowing about his dismemberment would not last forever.

Yet, it was a risk I was willing to take.

"I shall content myself to wait, then," he agreed.

"Yes. Influence is largely a matter of patience," I said.

"Your brothers have taught you fine words, Godsgift. I shall look forward to hearing more of them in the future."

With that, he bowed, and left me where I was. My heart was ready to explode. I pretended to be not as excited as I was in truth, and stifled a yawn. Ser Romar came to my side.

"You had better not speak to men like him in the future, my lady. He's dangerous," he told me.

"He didn't harm me. He's just a spider."

He frowned. "Spiders wait in their web for prey."

I laughed at him. "Have you ever seen a doe in a spider's web?" Then, I clapped my hands, and laughed even louder. "Let's return, Ser Romar. Robbie will ride any minute now, and I must see him!"

Ser Romar nodded, but his face was clearly worried. He didn't like following my whims, that much was clear, but he had also not stopped me from interacting with Varys. He had given me my head. Robert would not have liked to know, and neither would Stannis. As we returned to the lists, I looked at my guardian, beginning to wonder whose servant he really was – my brothers', or mine?

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Feel free to review. Inspiration and ideas are always appreciated!_

 _Time acceleration postponed so I could get this chapter out. Next time, we'll start a little later, during Robert's Rebellion, and see how Estelle fares during the Siege of Storm's End._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – In which I became a princess**

For a brief moment or two, I mistook the tents before me for those at Harrenhal. The same vibrant colours, the same flying flags… yet at the tourney, it had been but a pageantry, a friendly game of showing off prowess and wealth. This sea of tents before the walls of my ancestral home was real. It was war.

"You should not be here. Stannis will be upset when he finds you," Renly's voice entered my thoughts as he climbed the battlements. His was tall for his age, and already beginning to show the handsome beauty he would later be fabled for. And unlike me, he was tall enough to overlook the battlements with ease, while I, not even five years of age, could barely manage to pull myself up and catch a glimpse.

"He'd also be furious to find you here, so why aren't you worried?"

Renly puffed up his cheeks, as he always did when I outwitted him, although it rarely worked so quickly. He crossed his arms before his chest and used his chin to point towards the besieging enemy.

"Are you counting them? I have tried, several times actually, but there are just too many. Stannis is sure we can sit the matter out, but there are so many of them…"

"Stannis is right," I sat matter-of-factly. "The fat flower things he can starve us out of here, but we're stormlords, Renly. We cannot be scared into submission."

He sniffed at me. "You sound so odd when you speak like that."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, like Maester Cressen. But I suppose Stannis likes these fancy words in you."

I straightened my shoulders, trying not to appear so little next to my brother.

"Stannis likes nothing more than to spite Lord Tyrell right now. And believe me, we will," I promised, sensing that his teasing was just a way to hide the fearful little boy. Even though he was, technically, my elder brother, he was but a boy and I had once been a woman grown. I didn't feel like lashing out on him too much. "We are well provisioned, and with the smuggled goods now arriving on a regular basis, we can sit here for many more moons before the fat flower realizes he's not starving us at all. Plenty of time for Robbie to win the war."

Renly nodded absent-mindedly, his gaze drifting over the myriad of war tents.

"Do you think he will?"

"Do what? Win the war?"

He nodded again, this time more seriously.

"I know that he will. You have no reason to be afraid."

"Did you have one of these dreams again? Is that it, huh?"

"You shouldn't be mad about it, Renly. My dreams warned us of the Tyrell approach. Without them, we'd be down to eating cats by now."

He was silent for a long time, and for once I wished I could read other people's minds. Then, finally, he moved, kicking a little pebble over the wooden planks of the battlements.

"I know. Stannis keeps telling me, and I know damn well how good your dreams were for us. But… but why…" He stopped, and turned away from me. Then he murmured. "Why does everything always have to be about you?"

Before I could react, he pulled himself back together and all but jumped down the stairs. As it turned out, this saved him from our brother's ire, for only a few moments later, one of our guards happened upon me on the battlements and promptly delivered me to Stannis, despite my protest. I didn't feel like being carried around at all.

But there I was, put in a chair in Stannis's command room like a petulant little child. To him, I probably was.

"On the battlements?" He said nothing more, didn't even look at me, but his tone was hurtful. He seemed disappointed.

"I only wanted to see for myself," I tried to explain.

Stannis crossed his arms behind his back and turned towards me. "There is nothing for you to see, only the promise of death. A little girl should not have to see such."

"I have seen worse," my lips betrayed my thoughts against my better wisdom.

"In your dreams, mayhaps. But this is real. Estelle, this is war. People will die. Robert might die. I swore to soul of the mother that bore us that I would keep you safe, you and Renly. Do not make it hard for me."

The sorrow in his voice as he spoke of mother hit me hard. I jumped off the chair and ran towards him.

"But I'm not trying to make it hard, Stannie! I want to help you. Am I not helpful? When I told you about the siege…"

He put his arms around me gently. "Yes, you were helpful, Estelle. But I would rather you had never dreamt of this. A girl your age shouldn't have to endure it."

"And Robbie shouldn't be out fighting. The mad king should have never burned the old wolf. Prince Rhaegar should have never taken Robbie's love. But it all happened. The world isn't perfect."

"No, it truly isn't," Stannis now agreed and sought my gaze. "You must promise me never to go up the battlements again, Estelle. This world is dark and dangerous, as you say, and it would be much darker without you in it. Just one stray arrow..."

"I promise," I interrupted him. "I promise never to do it again if you promise to tell me any news from Robbie, or from King's Landing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Estelle…"

"I'd find out anyway, either from you or my dreams. I would… I would rather hear the news from you, be they good or bad."

He sighed, then he nodded and patted my head. "Come with me," he ordered and returned to the table on which dozens of parchments were piling up. "The raven arrived yesterday. Show me how much you have learned, young lady. Maester Cressen tells me you excel with letters."

Eagerly I climbed the chair again and took the paper he offered me. Not only did I yearn to prove that I was nowhere near as incapable as any five-year-old girl should be, I needed to read this. Stannis couldn't understand, but any piece of information could be crucial for my plans. I unrolled the paper and quickly skimmed the few hastily-written lines. Then, breathlessly, I put it down.

"Robert's won."

Stannis nodded.

"But he is hurt."

"Gravely hurt," my brother agreed. "The maesters know not whether he can survive. And even with the Silver Prince dead, the war is far from over. Do you see now why I couldn't tell you? Estelle, you are too young to bear such news. Do not think I mean to harm you, sister."

The paper slipped from my hands. The battle of the Trident. Robert's wounds, Ned Stark marching towards the capital… the time had come. My heart pounding like a drum, I locked eyes with Stannis and stood upright in the chair.

"No, you don't. But I had to read this. One day, you will understand, but from this day hence, you will never keep such vital information from me again," I told him sharply, not caring at all that I had stopped sounding like a five-year-old. "These are matters of life and death, brother. There is no such thing as too young for this. We must act on it, we must be strong. You are a Baratheon, a true stag, but so am I. You cannot shield me. Mine is the fury."

He looked… puzzled, to say the least. It was a bold move, I admit, but it felt absolutely right. Stannis was a man of principle and great reason, so I hoped he would understand. Yet, he surprised me there and then, and it would remain one of the very few instances of him ever surprising me. He approached me, still fixing his gaze on me, and then he grabbed me by the hips as only Robert would. Robert was the hugging brother, but never Stannis. Yet, he held me there.

"Ours is the fury," he insisted gravely, before picking me up and putting me back on the floor. "Now go and play."

It was clear that he would not say more, and I expected nothing more of him. With a child-like smile, I giggled at him and did as he asked of me.

Later that day, I began telling everyone who would listen that I had the strangest dreams of birds and spiders and lions. Harmless children's blabber, most of our servants thought.

Except for the one who approached me the day after, a kitchen boy I had barely ever noticed before. Curiously, and rather sweetly, he tried to ask me about my dreams. I invited him to play with me, and once we were alone, he thought to push his luck further. Rather than play that game, however, I pulled him close (a boy twice my age!) and whispered into his ear.

"You will repeat every word I tell you to the spider, every single word of it. And if you do, I'll see to it that you are well rewarded. Whatever he's offering you, I'll give you just as much. But if you forget so much as one word, if you misplace any syllable… people will die," I explained in a voice far too grave for a girl my age. "Beginning with you. Do you understand?"

Still in the clutches of a little girl, despite probably strong enough to wrestle me down if he dared, he gulped and nodded.

"Good. Tell him wolves will pluck the flowers to unleash a storm. Tell him lions encircle a prey that once considered them friends. And tell him he must not, under any circumstances, act on any of that, for it is the will of fate. There is only thing he can, and must, do. Only one."

I waited a heartbeat. The boy gasped.

"One one, m'lady," he repeated breathlessly.

I smiled at his submission, and at the thought of what I was going to do. I didn't feel sorry for threatening the little bird, nor for anything that was about to happen. It was necessary, and it felt good. The only thing I regretted was not being a grown woman yet. Then, full well knowing what I had caused so far and what was still to come, I fed him the information that Varys needed to alter fate in my sense.

When he left, all I could do was hope that I had not put my trust in the wrong man.

Two weeks later, we received news of the sack of King's Landing. The mad king was dead, slain by his own kingsguard. The Targaryen bloodline was all but eradicated, for Rhaegar's little children had been butchered in their rooms, and even their Dornish mother was dead. All that remained now was Dowager Queen Rhaella, her little son Viserys and the babe in her womb. Or so people thought.

There were only few people in the world who knew better. There was one who would soon know, and just another few weeks after the raven had arrived, I watched from the battlements as he rode towards Storm's End. King's Landing had fallen, the Targaryens had lost, and the Baratheon-Stark-Tully army came riding to our aid, led by my brother's closest friend and ally. The Tyrells surrendered without even so much as a fight. There wasn't much love lost between Ned Stark and my other brother, yet still they embraced like old friends after Stark had come riding through our gates, waggons of food in his tow.

"You are most welcome at Storm's End, Lord Stark," Stannis said sombrely. "Any news of my brother?"

Stark's face distorted. "Aye, but none that I would tell you here."

"Come with me, then, so we may speak in private." Stannis shot me a glance, but left me there standing like the foolish little child I was.

That night, I snuck out of my room when my nurse had fallen asleep, and made my way to the guest chamber they had lodged Stark in. Bold move again, I know, but surely I had not been born a Baratheon for no reason.

He noticed me as soon as I tried to squeeze through the door. For a moment, his hand wandered to the dagger, but when Lord Stark realized who I was, his features relaxed.

"Lady Estelle, you should not be here at this time of the night. It is not proper."

"No, it isn't," I agreed, closing the door behind me. For a brief moment, I was amused by the fact that the scene could have been mistaken for a romantic tryst, had I been older or had he been… well, less Stark. "But neither are many other things happening at the moment. What King Aerys did to your family wasn't proper. What the old lion did to the royal family wasn't proper. What Robert said to you after they placed the bodies before him wasn't proper."

If Stark was surprised by my words, he didn't betray it.

"You should go to bed, my Lady."

"I will not sleep before I have said what needs to be said, and I'll put it plainly so as not to steal your time. What Robert said about the Targaryen children was wrong. I know you are angry at him, but you need not be angry at the rest of us. Not all Baratheons think like him."

A smile crept into the corner of his mouth. "I am not mad at you."

"And you shouldn't be. People make mistakes. Robert did, Rhaegar did, and even your sister did."

His gaze darkened again. "I really think it is time for you to go to bed…"

"You'll find her in Dorne," I stopped his attempt at pacifying me abruptly. "In the Tower of Joy, guarded by some of the Kingsguard. Do you know why that is?"

There was no answer.

"Well, if you don't you'll soon find out. But you must believe me that the Kingsguard are not your enemy unless you make them. Speak first, and draw swords only if you must. And when you speak… do not judge anyone too harshly. People make mistakes."

"I do not understand."

"No, but you will. Dragon dreams, Robbie calls them. Greensight, you Northerners say. The name matters not, a truth is still a truth. What happened to your father, your brother, your sister… it was all fate. You cannot alter the past, but you can change the future. Be wise, Lord Stark. Spare life instead of taking it."

His eyes seemed confused, but there was really nothing more I could say without risking to spoil it all. So instead of messing things up so much that I altered fate beyond the point of my knowledge, I bid him goodnight and hoped. I wasn't almighty, after all. All I could do was put my knowledge into the right people's hands, at the right times, and hope they would see reason.

Fortunately, and somewhat surprisingly, Stark saw reason. A month later he returned on his way back to King's Landing, a very stern look on his face. He didn't speak much to anyone, least of all Stannis. We didn't get much from him or his fellows about what transpired at the Tower of Joy – only that his sister was dead and so was the Kingsguard that had kept her imprisoned. That and the fact that Stark brought an infant with him that was rumoured to be his bastard.

He came to me as I had come to him, in the middle of the night with no announcement. It wasn't proper. But it was right.

"You knew."

There was nothing else he said, and for a moment I waited for him to add questions, yet there came none. Then, I sighed and sat up in my bed.

"I knew."

"How much?"

"About Rhaegar and Lyanna? A few things. About Jon?" Stark flinched at my words. "Everything."

"Who did you tell?"

"No one."

Stark raised an eyebrow. "Not even your brothers?"

"Especially not them. You know what Robert would do if he knew. You could not allow that to happen. And you promised your sister…"

"But you didn't," he insisted mistrustfully.

"No." I nodded. "But it was the will of the gods, be they old or new. It was fate. I knew it, but I dared not have altered it."

He fell silent for a minute or two, and I began to fear he would jump at me, or jump out of the room. But then, something painful emerged from underneath his Northern ice. It was but one word.

"Why?"

"Because it needed to happen. Because Jon needed to be born, and be born like this, from tears and blood. All of this is greater, greater than any would imagine, or even believe. I never told anyone, nor will I ever."

"But you're telling me."

"As much as you need to know, because you do need to know. Jon is important, more than you would understand now. But there'll come a day when all our lives will depend on him. Which is why I had to let it happen. Which is why you must besmirch your honour in order to protect him and continue this charade. Pass him off as yours, raise him to be a Stark, a Northerner of high moral virtues. He'll need them when the day comes."

He studied my face, but apparently didn't find what he was looking for.

"Robert…"

"Will never know. I promise. Only you and I, and your lady wife, when the time comes. You may not know her now, but come to know her, and you'll see that you can trust her. But only her. It shall be the three of us and… please, Lord Stark, did you keep them alive? Tell me you did."

He cleared his throat. "Who?" But he knew the answer. "The men of the kingsguard are dead and buried. Any nameless men in their likeness who might have fled to Essos are none of my concerns. If they think to serve a rightful king, that is their mind, but not…"

"But not yours."

Had he been an adept player of the game, he would have simply agreed. Yet he was a Stark, the most honourable of them all. "Jon is the rightful king."

"He is, but he must not be for the time being. Take him far from prying eyes and keep him safe until the day comes. The kingdoms do not need another war now, they need peace. Let Robert play the role fate has assigned him."

"He is your brother," Stark remarked.

"And I love him with all my heart. But I know what he is, and what he is not. We both love him, and yet we both need Jon. We can either succumb to this dilemma or act against it. Which shall it be?"

He stared at me again with that sharp Northern gaze.

"I made a promise to Lyanna. A wolf protects its pack."

"The pack survives," I agreed. "Never speak of it again to anyone save your wife, and only when you are far from prying ears. The men you took to the Tower… you must send them far away, or remove them. No one must ever speak of it again. And neither shall we speak, Lord Stark. We will not meet again for a long time, but I swear to keep your secret. I'll keep it stored away so safely that not even the Spider shall find it, if you in turn promise to listen to me when we ever speak again."

He rose from the chair he had sat down upon, and simply nodded. "Never speak of it again, and do not forget it."

"I won't. It's not only the North that remembers."

He grumbled. "Greenseer indeed, wise beyond your years. Dangerous."

"But not for you, nor for your 'bastard'. I choose my enemies carefully, and I intend not for them to bear the surname Stark."

"Enemies? What enemies would a girl have," he spoke rather to himself as he turned to go.

"None as of yet. But mark my words, Lord Stark, I'll have a fair share of them even before we meet again. A girl may have no enemies, but a princess certainly will."

* * *

 _AN: Sorry for the delay. Please enjoy the thickening plot. Next up will probably be another time jump, a little greater than the one-and-something-years of the rebellion. Estelle will face the life of a princess and be fostered in an unexpected place, and she'll grow up to make good on her promise to find enemies. Please feel free to review and let me know what kind of future you see for her._


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